


The Right of Skin, Chapter IX

by Geelady



Series: The Right of Skin, Book 1 [2]
Category: Farscape
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geelady/pseuds/Geelady





	The Right of Skin, Chapter IX

The Right of Skin - Chapter IX

Setting/Spoilers: Slightly pre-Season One and then after that... I guess.  
Rating: NC-17. Non-con, slash. VIOLENT GRAPHIC RAPE. Go away if any offends.  
Pairings: John/Scorpius and/or Various enemies/ shipmates  
Summary: AU. John Crichton is caught on a ship. Aliens are present, and his so-called life aboard Moya begins.  
Disclaimers: Farscape and its characters are the property of Jim Henson Productions, and a bunch of other folks who made $$ from it. Me? I make fun.  
Note: Please remember that in this version of Farscape there are some details that have come from memory (from Seasons 1 and 2), while others I am making up as I go along - I’m “tweaking” canon to suit this AU. At this writing I have watched up to half of Season Two.

FSFSFSFSFSFSFSFS

“Human!” Fraxx said to get his attention. The creature Scorpius left for him was almost asleep, or unconscious. Fraxx didn’t care which but he did need his victim awake. The drug would take care of that. Fraxx took the needleless injector and pressed it against the human’s abdomen. A soft hissss could be heard in the otherwise quiet room.

It, and the pressure of the injection, was enough to bring John around. He remembered where he was and began straining once more at the cuffs to no avail. “What the frell was that?”

“Something I mixed up to keep you awake during therapy.” The Qootwaq said. Each of the words the creature said was forced slowly and carefully passed his large tongue and protruding teeth, both of which evidently stood very much in the way of smoothly articulated speech.

“Therapy?” John asked. “What therapy?”

Fraxx, his mind on other things, muttered to himself as he turned back to the wall to handle some power cords hanging there, ominously flopping out of holes in the wall like dead snakes. “I hate it when they faint.”

Fraxx turned back and noted that the human was also sweating. “Oh-h-h-h-h...” He exclaimed. “You look shiny. Pretty. Scorpius wants me to give you my mark; because of your betrayal, so you won’t forget. He doesn’t like that, you know.”

Staring at the cords - “Whazzat for?” John slurred. The drug was forcing adrenaline through his veins and soon he was shaking all over. It was also causing difficulties in speech, his jaw muscles cramping shut, making his tongue fumble and force every other word. “N’wha’ th’ frell’r...you talkin’bou’?”

“You are lucky, human.” Fraxx generously shared. “Scorpius usually requests death as punishment. He is a bit of a softy I think and is taken with you. Master hates almost everyone, but he likes you. That would be my guess, since you are still alive.”

John watched the creature as he pulled on one of the thicker cords to gain some slack then – incredibly - attached it to the back of its own head, snapping it into place with a dull pop!

John watched with horrified fascination. Who the frell gets a socket installed in their skull as part of a job prerequisite??

Fraxx continued. “You are scared, too. That’s normal. You are also probably wondering who I am and where I come from?”

A dren lab? Someone’s barn? Mostly I’d like to know how the frell I can kill you right now.

“Scorpius had me especially altered for his work. His wormhole work is very important.”

Scorpius had clearly not sent out a memo on that particular work-stoppage.

“This cord carries bio-chemicals to my skull. My skull transforms them into other types of energy. Some will make you feel good, others will not. Scorpius gave you to me for a while. He treats me well here, and wants me to treat you well, too.”

“Sha-sure. T’riffic.” John shivered in the suddenly cold room. His heart was pounding a steadily increasing rhythm. Fear was coming down hard. “Next outing, we’ll...ha-a-ve lunch”.

Fraxx appeared ready to begin therapy, and walked over to John. As John gagged from the touch, Fraxx put his rough hands on his body and began tearing at his jumpsuit undergarment, ripping off the rest of it in long strips. Large hungry eyes took in the naked view. “You are nice and smooth, aren’t you? And a pretty color. The master said you were. Yes.”

If he could have moved a dench, John would have run naked from the room screaming for his mother. Because, without so much as properly introducing himself, Fraxx knelt down and took John’s flaccid penis in his mouth, pushing against the surrounding fragile flesh with his teeth and breaking through the skin by a half dench or more. John thrashed and shouted curses, trying to to shake him off, but it was useless.

Now in pain and terrified of what was going to happen next, John tried to force out some convincing words to stop this, because nothing here could be guessed at anymore. He was the sole human in a big black sky, lost to anything familiar anymore. It was all new, freakish, and frightening. Everything was alien now – all of it.

“I’m n-not sure how giving me a blowjob s’pports wormhole cre’tion.” His vocal chords tensed up and his speech now came out fast and garbled, then he heard a zapping, popping noise as a surge of nameless charged particles commenced flowing from the wall. When it reached his already on fire skin John screamed.

The puncture wounds began to bleed and Fraxx was getting some of the blood in his mouth. He did not seem to mind.

For arns John was held fast by the cuffs as the creature, a Frankenstein from Scorpius’ mind even more twisted than Scorpius himself, sucked him off with an expert tongue that stroked him this time, engulfed him that, while hot electric bolts travelled down the cord, through the creatures’ skull and into one of the most sensitive gatherings of nerves a body possessed. Pleasure was followed by pain and physical agony by sexual heights that sent him into rolling seizures and powerless slumps, the likes of which should not even have been possible.

Sometimes Fraxx mixed the two sensations by varying percentages and in ways that John’s body or mind could not make sense of. But the pain never ended. And his penis betrayed him like an old whore by coming over and over, even when his own body begged him to stop. It was The Chair all over again but this time for his flesh and feelings, rather than merely his mind. What he would not have given for one of Zhaan’s lying midnight visits.

It went on and on until John could not help himself. He began screaming, and he kept on screaming, lungful after lungful, uselessly begging Fraxx to stop, then pleading and crying for Scorpius to come back and put an end to it, and then sobbing once more when Scorpius did not come back. John used himself up trying to end the horribly violent and personal attack, screaming until he was hoarse, until his throat finally closed up and the last sound in him shrank to a gurgling, whimpering whispered word, his very last one.

“Pl-e-a-a-s-e...”

After that, he made not a sound.

Fraxx finally came to a finish, ended it and stood up, stretching luxuriously. The human was now unconscious, his face wet and his limbs twitching. The drug to keep him alert so that he should feel every tiny part of the encounter had worn off.

Fraxx licked his lips and cleaned his teeth off with a faded, ragged piece of John’s clothing, throwing it to the floor after. He walked to the control panel against the wall and pressed a control. “Sir, I’m finished.”

“Thank you Fraxx. You may return to your studies.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the gift. He was fun.”

FS

“Why did Crais decide to show up?” Aeryn asked as she beat the deck back to the bridge.

Pilot’s voice answered her from the dark corridor. “He didn’t. Talyn came on his own volition.”

Aeryn smiled. There was guile in her satisfaction. “Crais did not have total control over Talyn?”

“No. Not more than his own mother - Moya. Zhaan also made a silent plea to Moya to ask for Talyn’s help and Talyn made the decision to come.”

“Thank god for devoted sons.” Aeryn muttered.

With Talyn docked on Moya, Crais met Aeryn on the bridge. Aeryn arrived just in time to prevent D’Argo from tearing Craise’s larynx from his throat.

When he saw Aeryn and although D’Argo’s thick fingers were around his neck, Crais still managed to look insulted. He squeezed out the words one strained syllable at a time. “You...lied...to...me.”

“Yeah, we did.” Aeryn said. She was not one bit sorry, but she nodded to D’Argo to drop his prize. D’Argo reluctantly did so, unceremoniously dumping Crais on the floor.

Crais stood, brushing the dust from his long military-black coat. “You told me you had fully disabled Talyn’s Prerogative Nexus. I ordered him to retreat and he defied me.”

“Yeah, I guess he did, didn’t he? On the other hand, had you showed up when you were supposed to, he wouldn’t have had to.” Aeryn answered.

Crais stood his ground but with less self-assurance than a moment ago. “I would have come...eventually.”

D’Argo explained it for him. “We couldn’t take the chance that you might not so we left a Nexus protocol or two in place. A wise decision as it turned out.”

Aeryn stood toe to toe with Crais. “And now you will take Talyn and use his guns to help us get Crichton back.”

“Not until you disable to final protocols.”

Aeryn moved closer. She was almost standing on the man’s toes. “If you continue to be pissy, we could always just keep you here. Talyn doesn’t seem to be mind being home again.”

Craise knew he was beaten. He straightened his collar with a long suffering sigh. “Yes, well...” He looked at Aeryn, his feelings a mixture of extreme resentment and grudging respect. She was as stubborn and insubordinate as she had always been, but he still liked the view. “I want your word you will disable the last protocols once Crichton is back on Moya.”

Aeryn’s answer was short. “Done.” She turned away. “It’s not like we enjoy your company – Pilot,” she called out. “Have Moya follow Scorpius’ ship - not too close. We don’t want him getting a whiff of us.”

“We’ll be careful, Aeryn.”

The group, including Crais since he was to have a major role in the rescue, stood around the bridge’s table-like consol. D’Argo took turned paying attention to Aeryn and glaring malevolently at Crais.

“Now,” Aeryn asked them all, “how do we get Crichton back?”

To D’Argo it was simple. “We use Talyn to disable Scorpius’ ship and we go in and get him.”

Aeryn shook her head. “By disabling, do you mean blowing it partly up? We could kill John in the process, it has to be a surgical strike - the engines, the weapons, and we need actual strategy to get Crichton back safely.”

“Yeah.” Chiana said. “We can’t just run in with guns blasting, Scorpius has soldiers doesn’t he?”

“And Scorpius knows we will be coming for him.” Aeryn added. “He’ll have him in lock-down or heavily guarded.”

Chiana had an idea. “What if we get John’s help?”

Aeryn looked at her strangely. “And how are we supposed to get his help?”

“Well, it must have been Zhaan who sent the message to John that she was free. I mean, we didn’t even know Talyn had arrived until it was almost all over.” Chiana pointed out. “Maybe she’s in communication with John.”

D’Argo nodded. “Chiana’s right. She must have. It was John who told me Zhaan would signal him, and then he wrote what signal to send broadband –“

“What signal was that by the way?” Aeryn asked.

D’Argo showed her the back of his hand where John had scribbled it.

Aeryn read it aloud. “Crais, the Nexus is still in place, you Benedict.” Aeryn looked at Crais. “What’s “Benedict” mean?”

Crais shook his head. “I have no idea, but I...accepted the - er - suggestion.”

D’Argo snorted. “Just as I always knew - a coward.”

Chiana spoke to stop an argument before it began. “Could we focus on a more urgent problem please? Like, I don’t know, rescuing John?”

Aeryn asked the question, not sure she would be sanguine with the answer. “How will John help us?”

“We ask Zhaan to let him know we’re coming, and give him maybe an arn to get to a pre-specified hiding place on Scorpius’ ship. We get in through a hatch, if there is one, or blast a hole if we have to, and rescue him there.”

Aeryn nodded. It wasn’t half bad.

“May I point out the worst of the dozen things that could go wrong?” D’Argo added. “What if John does not receive the message, or doesn’t understand it, or can’t get to the place, or Scorpius has dozens of soldiers hunting him through-out the ship or - ”

“Or,” Aeryn added, “as I said before, we end up killing John while blasting through the hull.”

“We blast near his hiding spot, then.” Chiana corrected. She spread her hands. “Hey, if any of you have a better idea, I’d like to hear it.”

No one did.

FS

Scorpius did not look when his assistant came into the room after Fraxx left. “Call for my doctor and his instruments, Vnuuka.” He ordered. “I have a special gift for John, something more personal this time.”

“Yes sir.” She walked over to look at her master’s victim. Taking John’s chin in her hand, she said with bold disdain. “Why do you bother with this inferior species, sir? Surely he has nothing more to tell you.”

“And once the device is installed,” Scorpius continued as though she had not spoken, “have him taken to my chamber.” He ordered.

His tall and willing helper, her blonde hair piled upon her head, nodded. “Yes sir.” She waved a single finger to two males in the doorway who had accompanied her. They immediately came forward, efficiently unfastened the metal cuffs and, lifting John’s unconscious body between them, carried him out the door.

Vnuuka ventured into dangerous territory. “Are you sure you want him in your chamber, my lord?”

Scorpius did not take his eyes off John as he was taken into the corridor. “I am not your lord and it pleases me for you to obey my requests without question.”

It was as gentle a rebuke as she was likely to get. “Of course, sir.”

“And Vnuuka.” Scorpius said lastly as she was about to leave. “If you ever so much as touch John again, I will have the doctor cut off all of your fingers.”

There was a few microts of stoned silence before she answered. “Y-es sir, I’m very sorry, sir.”

“You may go.”

“Thank you sir.”

Once John was being tended to, Scorpius left to prevent what he suspected would be a rescue attempt. Two of his guards passed, dragging a Colarta tracker between them. When she spied Scorpius she called out. “You know why they are coming, don’t you? Don’t you?” Her voice grated on his ears.

Scorpius did not turn his head until she said – “Because they love him.”

Scorpius signalled the guards to stop.

“They want him,” She said again when she realized she had captured his attention. “I smell their scents upon his soul.”

“Ridiculous.” Scorpius answered.

“I know what I smell. They want him...almost as much as you do.”

A slow and carefully controlled rage sprang into life in his chest. He asked the lead guard. “Why is this vermin aboard my ship?”

“She was a stowaway, sir. We found her hiding in the aft cargo-hold.”

Scorpius looked her up and down, from her ragged cloak to her pinched, ugly face, a race that had evolved only for smell, hearing and vision. Scorpius was none-the-less curious. “Who told you of him?”

“I not only have The Smell,” she said. “I have ears to hear and eyes to see.” she leaned over as far as she could to get a snoot full of his peculiar hybrid scent. She smiled with secret knowledge. “I know the Sebacean drips for him, as do you.”

“Insolent drannit.” Scorpius nodded to the guards. “Kill her.”

As they dragged her away - “Don’t you think I can smell it on you?” She called. “You reek of lust for him! And he will die here.” All a Colarta had was her nose, eyes and ears to perfect effect. She used what she could to bargain for her life.

 

“Wait.” Scorpius raised his hand to stop the guards, and they returned to him. He asked her “How trained is your nose? Be truthful with me and I shall spare your life. How did you know there is a human aboard?”

“You just told me.” She chuckled. “I knew there was an alien scent. Until this microt I did not know its name.”

Scorpius did not believe it was so but - “Why is he dying?”

“His is the only alien scent aboard, this “human”, and it is sick with grief.”

“That’s ludicrous.” Why would John be dying now? “Dying from grief is ...unconvincing, Tracker.” But he sensed she was not lying and unfortunately he had made a promise and waved the guards to go. “Put her in a cell, and give her rations.”

John was certain John was not dying, but what if he was? Perhaps he had allowed Fraxx a little too much leeway? Besides the Tracker was right, John’s friends probably were going to mount a rescue. Perhaps John going back to Moya would not be a bad idea. It was not as if he could not find John anywhere now, or know what he was doing or even thinking. Reacquiring the human at a later date, when he was better, would be a simple thing. How would they do it? Where would they strike? He could ill afford damage to his ship at this juncture.

Perhaps it ought to assist them in their rescue. Scorpius tapped his communication link. “Vnuuka. Send someone to uncouple the outer hatch in my quarters.”

Vnuuka did not question this order. “Yes sir.”

 

FS

John was laid on the chamber’s unused soft pallet – Scorpius himself preferred to rest in the suspended woven construct he’d had made especially for his unique requirements; a sleeping place which served to better dissipate his body heat.

Scorpius lifted the small bandage fastened to John’s skull, examining the short cauterized scar the doctor had left behind after the surgery. He spent a few microts examining the other wounds Fraxx had inflicted. None of them had bled much, but all would have been particularly painful in their own way. Even the ring of punctures surrounding the base of John’s penis - those especially would have hurt. They also may have, if Fraxx had chosen to provide such, brought John intense pleasure. The manufactured Qootwaq was a true professional who punished and rewarded in perfect balance, the victim experiencing both unmitigated agony and ecstasy – deliciously raw, stinging, aching, galvanizing sex and pain. It was an exercise more designed to break a victim down emotionally than physically.

Scorpius longed to explain it all to John that Fraxx’s therapy wasn’t so much a personal attack as a disciplinary one, but the human was still unconscious. The Trackers words weighed heavily on his mind. Could he be dying?

He covered John loosely with a sheet. Later, when John was better and all this was behind them, he would explain the ways things were. The wormhole technology was cut short. John was all that was left of those plans, so now John had become a desired piece of his new plan - fair compensation after all. In time, John would be his completely but for now, he was forced to share him, for the human’s greater good.

He watched John sleep for a moment; the human was was pale and sweating. Scorpius made the decision.  
“They are coming for you, John. I’m sure you and Zhaan will explain to them where you are. Try not to damage my ship too much.”

 

FS

“John.”

The voice touching his mind was soothing. His body hurt. His mind could not focus on anything but the sight of a toothy beast giving him the most horribly painful but sexually fulfilling blowjob of his life, making him feel the worst he had ever felt. John did not understand how he had survived it. The pain ought to have killed his flesh, the rape his sense of self.

Instead he felt like a child. A child of war, when that first bomb goes off in what once was a peaceful neighbourhood. It rains down and kills everyone he knows, it levels buildings and sends blood spilling into the dust at his feet. But he stays upright and breathing and somehow is alive after it is done, though leaving him in the kind of shock that hollows out the soul.

Scorpius and the Qootwaq had scooped everything out of him, mashed it down, then slopped it back in. He was alive but functionless, breathing but made of sand. Whatever dignity he had managed to hold onto since arriving from the orbit of his beautiful blue Earth had been stripped from him. He felt comprehensively shrunk and spiritless. Demoralized. He was nothing more than boiled down bones, not a lick of life-sustaining marrow left in him.

The bandage on the back of his head covered up a stinging pain. His wounds, small as they were, were in too many places for his mind to pin down any specific one. He did not venture to look below his navel in case there was something missing, because it felt like something was missing.

John began to cry like a small boy. He did not care. There was no one in the room but him. Amazed that he had any tears left, they at least told him he was still alive. Some things still worked.

“John. You must listen.”

Pretty voice. He missed her. Funny that he suddenly could not remember who it was he missed.

“John!”

Zhaan! Zhaan’s voice there in the room with him, calming him, gently stroking his hair, her warm breath on his cheek. Zhaan. Beautiful blue like his Earth.

“John. You must find a place to hide. Stay where you are if it is a good hiding place, but if it is not you must go and find a secret place, and then tell me where you are on Scorpius’ ship. They are coming for you. I will tell them. Are you hearing me, John?”

“Yes.” Had he spoken that or thought it? He didn’t know.

“Go John! Hide.”

“Can’t!” He felt angry, but his mouth moved and stuff came out. Good if they were words. He hoped they were. Hide? He was too tired. “I have to stay here. Too sick, an’don’t wanna’ make him mad again.”

“Are you alone?”

“Always.” He felt sorry for himself. He was six again and lost at the fairground, and no one was looking for him. He would be alone forever. “I hate this whole place.”

“Then stay there. They are coming for you. Please don’t give up.”

The beautiful voice that came from lovely gentleness and the one good selection of memories he managed to summon in a mind fed to death with horrible things, made him feel slightly better. Good enough that instead of falling into another powerless faint, John yawned and fell asleep.

 

FS

Pilot, his crab-shell-like body shining in the dimly lit chamber, greeted Aeryn with his habitual manners. Round, soft eyes looked at her and then back to Moya’s instruments. “Hello, Aeryn. Moya is pleased you are here.”

“Why? What’s going on?” She had come to discuss Talyn and the worry of the protocols.

“Moya is worried. This is a dangerous mission.”

“Talyn can easily out-gun that cruiser.”

“But not without risk.”

Of course, Moya will have to give up her hiding spot if they are to rescue Crichton. Her Prowler did not the capability to dock one ship to another, especially not in space. “You’re worried Moya’s conduit might be damaged in the fight?”

“Its structure carries a major artery for her life-systems. She would not be able to starburst if it is damaged. It would also take weekens to fully heal. Moya wishes to help of course, but she is frightened.”

“Is it repairable?”

“Y-es, but only with Leviathan bio-engineered parts, which I am afraid we do not have on board.”

Nothing is ever simple. “Can Moya starburst short-range, say, within a star system?”

“It’s possible, but dangerous.”

“It always is. Then we’ll keep Moya hidden until the last possible moment. Have her starburst to Scorpius’ ship and the hole we’ll be blasting in it. With a little luck, we’ll get John back without killing Moya or ourselves.”

“I will speak to Moya. Does Crais have full control of Talyn now? Were the protocols removed?”

“We had no choice if we want his help this one last time.”

“Moya has spoken to Talyn on Johns behalf, and he will try to ensure that Crais does as he has promised.”

“How? Without the protocols...”

“Talyn has made a request of Crais.”

“What request?”

“Talyn wishes you to be aboard him when this fight begins.”

“I can’t. I need to fly the Prowler.”

“D’Argo is capable of flying it?”

“Yes, but-“

“Talyn strongly wishes you to be aboard him.”

“Why?”

“He trusts you.”

“He doesn’t trust Crais?”

“Well, yes, but I am a-afraid I cannot explain his reasoning. It is however his only request.”

Figures. “Fine. Tell Talyn I’ll be there, for all the good it will do.”

FS

Things went down almost as planned. Once the hole was blasted in the ship and John found and ferried through Moya’s conduit, they only had to starburst away. Only once it was accomplished and Moya was leaving the Delvan system, Talyn took a different heading, back toward central Peacekeeper territory.

“Where the hell are we going?” Aeryn demanded. “Take me back to Moya.”

Crais, his hands at the controls, his feet firmly planted in two lighted circles where Talyn’s communications with him flowed back and forth, looked at her aside. “Why? So you can salivate after John Crichton?”

Aeryn felt a flush of warm shame to her ears but betray nothing else. “No. So I can help them.”

“They don’t need your help, Aeryn. It was Talyn’s request that you come with us. He seems to understand even more than you do where your true destiny lies. He tells me you two have a connection.”

True enough. “I named him.”

“He remembers. Tell me the truth, Aeryn, is not your true goals to be reunited with the Nation and resume your duties as a Peacekeeper?”

She had pushed those desires far down inside her trying to adapt to life aboard Moya and the others. But to always be hunted, forever? “It was one of my goals. But it’s impossible now. There are no immunities in the Nation.”

“If we together quell the rebellions breaking out all over the Nation, I am certain we would not only be allowed to resume our former positions, but gain promotions. With Talyn as lead fighting vessel, I would have command of an armada once more.” He looked straight at her now. “With you as my Second.”

“So we can subdue worlds and kill millions?”

“It is not the Peacekeepers who kill millions, Aeryn, it is the Scarran as you well know. The casualties from the Nation are merely...collateral.”

The Scarrans did want total dominion over all worlds in the sector, it was true, and they were unashamed of that pursuit. “It’s not my fight anymore.”

“It’s everyone’s fight.”

“Take me back to Moya.”

“I will tell Talyn to turn around if you will answer one question - truthfully.”

“Fine.”

“Are you in love with John Crichton?”

“Of course not.”

“You agreed to tell the truth, Aeryn. Talyn knows you are lying. It is why working with him is only possible with absolute honesty and trust. The protocols are gone, but Talyn still requires total knowledge of intent before he will act, even if he doesn’t agree.”

Aeryn remembered hating Crais. She also remembered loving him. Hating him, however, always won out in the end. “Yes. At least, I think so.”

“So you wish to go and tell him so before you’ll accompany me?”

Why not admit it? It served no use in hiding it. But what use to admit it either? Nothing seemed to hold much purpose anymore. Simply survival wasn’t enough. She was tired of her life being only that. Zhaan had got to go home. D’Argo had Chiana, Pilot had Moya, and Rygel had his superiority and seven meals a day. What did she have on Moya? Hope? A place to retire? She certainly did not have the love of the man she loved, or thought she loved. What if she told him? What then?

“Yes, I want to tell him.” It felt good to speak it aloud at last, even to Crais.

Crais made the request to Talyn and Talyn set course to locate his mother. “Fine.” Crais said. “We will go back. I hope you will think about this offer, Aeryn, I could use you at my side. Your presence aboard Talyn would be...invaluable.”

She made no promises but it was nice to have options.

FS

Chiana greeted her. “Hey –where have you been?”

Aeryn checked her holster. Her weapon was still there, loaded and intact. She never felt complete without it. Life-long habits were hard to break. Avoiding the question - “How’s John?”

“Alive. I can’t believe we even got him back. D’Argo thinks it was too easy.”

It was but why question one day of good fortune? “I want to see him.”

“Okay, but there’s something you need to see first.”

“What?”

“Just come with me.” Chiana led her to the chamber where they ate their meals, the room John always called “The Mess”.

Rygel was there, as was D’Argo. They were watching a holo-message. The holo-image of an old man was standing on their eating table, talking at length. “Start it again, D’Argo.”

D’Argo obliged while Chiana kept talking. “When Zhaan left, there were a few things she told Rygel he could have from her quarters. Me, too, she left me some things, too, including this. We only found it today, in one of her old robes.”

Aeryn refused to sit down. She was wired and anxious to see John. She was almost shaking with the need to do something or go somewhere instead of being stuck here with people who already had their life set out for them. She could not keep the anger from her voice. “What are we watching?”

“Remember the doctor Zhaan took John to, a couple of cycles ago? Well, he gave her this data crystal. Zhaan never told us about it and now we think we know why.”

Growing impatient - “So what is it?”

Chiana sat down. “Just listen.” Chiana and the others were clearly captivated by it, so Aeryn finally sat down, stiffly, and listened.

The man in the holographic image appeared almost as old as Moya. When he spoke it was with the authority of decades spent immersed in his craft. What he said was no less mesmerizing.

At the beginning, the thin, red haired old man dressed in black robes was speaking as though to an audience; as a lecturer, or as someone filing a report, which was evidently what he was doing.

“I am professor Tenagari Fentz of the Ninoos Searchers, the Fourth Dynasty, and this is Archaeological Compilation Nine of this series...”

His next words, though, were more personal. He was now speaking of things that tickled the scientist in him.

“...The gathering team has just delivered an excellent collection of fragments from this rocky jumble on the far side of our galaxy. The belt has indeed produced ample evidence of there once being a planet here teeming with animal and plant life, and now we are certain that once, long ago, a thriving population of intelligent life existed here as well.

“The most exciting pieces confirm those suspicions: two small squares of print on a wood-based pulp, a fragment of moulded ceramic, a lump of melted slag from refined ore – possibly a mixture of tin and iron. There are many other objects all of which are itemized in my report in greater detail, but we are most excited by the two paper fragments. The print on both was machine-produced and unusual. Not of a language I have encountered before on any explored world. Our translators were able to compare the seventeen words or parts of words on both with samples from twenty-two thousand or so known languages, ancient and modern, particularly those rarer dialects, and also aside the dead languages stored in the Prime Library. We were able, with satisfactory certainty, to determine the meaning of several of the words: “Planet warming”, “hydrocarbons” - uh - another word we believe refers to audio/visual display, then there are “ship launch”, “orbital”, and the last word of which we are confident – “Soil”, a reference we believe to the planet itself only because it was written in conjunction with the words “planet warming” and “hydrocarbons” - a chemical mix that can be found in many planetary atmospheres - but because the majuscule rendering of the first letter.”

The professor cleared his throat and gingerly held the two fragments in withered fingers. He had them sealed in clear resin to preserve them for all time.

“The molecules of the other pieces, their sub-atomic structures, were evidently subjected to some extreme stresses, such that the very atoms themselves were either altered or, in many cases I imagine, destroyed altogether. Our esteemed team scientists report that such stresses such as the kind we have found on most of the fragments had to have been caused by exposure to a black hole that lasted, oh - seconds perhaps, or to possibly a worm-hole that lasted I am afraid much longer. Whatever existed here on this planet called Soil, or whoever existed, came to a violent end a long time ago. The atomic stress residue from the fragments and the rock masses of the belt confirm this, indicating a half-life of twenty to thirty thousand years. I can’t help wondering who they were, or if they were a space faring people. Did they all die or did some survive? I fear we shall never know. At any rate, Doctor Farwot, you can read the rest in my report which I will transmit to you and to the museum at the end of this recording. This is Professor Fentz in the third orbit of the system of, if you’ll forgive me, “Minor-Yellow-Seven-Two”. That’s minor yellow star, seven planets and two asteroid belts in case you were wondering Doctor. My team has not yet come up with a suitable name for this site. Thank you for your attention.”

Aeryn wasn’t certain she understood what this message was saying. “What does all this mean? “Soil”? Is he talking about - ?”

“- Earth.” D’Argo finished. “He’s talking about Earth.”

“John’s home world.” Chiana added.

Aeryn felt a sudden panic. “I know what world it is.” She looked back at the frozen holo-image.

“Don’t you get it?” Chiana asked her. “Soil - Earth. He’s talking about a destroyed planet. It’s not there anymore.”

“And hasn’t been,’ Rygel finished soberly, “for fifty-thousand years.”

Aeryn felt the bile rise in her stomach. John had not only traveled through a wormhole to the other side of the galaxy, he had also traveled far into the future. John was homeless and as old as an ancient and he had no idea of either. Aeryn was suddenly furious with all of them for showing this to her, for ever finding the damn thing to begin with. And she was heart-sick for John, but even so, a small hope still rushed through her. It meant that though there was a terrible time for John ahead, he would not be going home, not searching for that elusive wormhole that would carry him back to Earth. He would stay, now, with them; aboard Moya; with her.

There was only one worry left. How does a human take news of this kind? “John came through the wormhole, and then it destroyed his own planet.” She said quietly. And everyone on it.

FS

“John I have something to tell you.” Aeryn said as she entered his chamber.

He was lying down, on his left side, his face to the corridor. He did not acknowledge her at first, but then sighed heavily. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She repeated the nonsensical greeting that was so typically him. “Uh, there’s something you need to know...about me.”

His eyes were dull. Perhaps this was not the time to tell John about his home world, or that she was pretty sure she was in love with him, or anything at all. But she could not go forward, or make any decisions about her own future until she knew what he felt about her, if anything. And she could not know that unless she said something, and she could only say it if he knew the truth about Earth.

The others wanted to hide the knowledge, but she felt it would be cheating him. Besides, what if he decided to go off on another wormhole hunt? Then they’d have to tell him anyway, wouldn’t they? He deserved to know the whole truth now. It was his planet after all.

Aeryn did not sit. For a reason she could not define, she was afraid to get too close to him. “But first I have to tell you something else. Do you remember when you came aboard and we took you to see that doctor?”

John was weary to the point of collapse. He did not want to do this right now. He did not want visitors. “I vaguely remember a doctor, that’s about it. You all had me drugged up pretty good, remember?”

Drugged - yes. Restrained and held down. They had all been uncertain about him then. “Uh – right. Well, he gave Zhaan this crystal data unit with some information on it. A lot of information about, well, it’s hard to explain, you really should see it.”

John held one hand to his aching head. “Aeryn, I just spent my vacation in Scorpius’ Super-Fantastic Fun Palace again, you wanna’ cut to the chase please?”

She coughed. “Uh, well, it says - the data crystal contains information about an archaeological expedition to the far side of the galaxy. The crystal’s about a hundred years old, actually, so the information is already old. The man in it, the doctor I guess, talks about a world he found, well, it’s not a world anymore, it’s just rubble in space but it, the people who lived on it used a language like the one you speak, words that sound like yours, and it talks about Soil, a planet named Soil...” She trailed off when she realized she was babbling and when she saw the expression on John’s face change.

“It mentions Earth?” He asked quietly.

“In so many words, yes.” She stretched out her arm to him, the crystal in the palm of her hand. “I suppose you ought to just watch it for yourself.”

John slowly sat up, gingerly testing his sore muscles to see if they would work sufficiently. He took the crystal and held it up to his eyes, examining its golden colour. “Why do you think it’s talking about Earth?”

Aeryn clasped her hands behind her back. “Well, the man in the message speaks of a system with a yellow star, seven planets and two asteroid belts...”

“Well, then it’s not about Earth. We have eight planets and one asteroid belt.” He was about to lie back down again but Aeryn had not moved from her spot.

“John,” she urged. “You really need to watch the message.”

This time her voice convinced him, and he stood up, limping in the direction of the Mess. “Fine, I’ll watch the damn thing, but its’ not Earth.”

Aeryn cleared her throat. “Um, John, could I have a word with you afterward? Just a minute or two, later I mean, when you’re ready to talk?” Aeryn bit down on her lip. She could not help but talk too much when things got emotional. It was how she handled it. “Dren!”

When Aeryn finally summoned up the courage to go find him, John was nowhere to be found. And when she remembered that when upset he liked to spend quiet time wandering the corridors of Moya’s aft sections, she did locate him, but Chiana had got there first.

Whish was just as well, as it turned out, as John was in no frame of mind for a chat about her feelings. Aeryn wasn’t sure what frame of mind to categorise what she was seeing. John was crouched down against one wall, his hands to his chin, grinding against the flesh as though to rub it out. His eyes were red, swollen and wet. He was crying, though at one point Aeryn could not tell if the sounds he was making were sobs or laughs. He could be choking for all she knew.

But he stayed there, with his head in his hands while Chiana comforted him with all the know-how of the Nebari female. John did not shrug her off nor was he accepting any of what she was offering. It was as though he was alone in the corridor and Chiana a ghost.

John clamped his palms over his eyes. It seemed that if he let go, then his insides would spill out all over the floor. Sobs wracked his body and Aeryn watched in morbid fascination at the alien display, numbed by the level of its power over him, and ashamed at her own inability to step forward and offer comfort of her own. She in fact had no idea how to deal with this level of sorrow.

Chiana on the other hand, was holding John in her hands, kissing his face and his hair and his neck, even the lids of his wet eyes. There was nothing sexual in her fingers yet every movement contained abiding love.

As she watched Aeryn possessed insight enough to know that Chiana was the right person for the job. She herself would not have known how to handle grief of such proportions. She would have in fact handled John’s breakdown badly, how she known how to do so at all. Once more John was getting what he needed but not from her.

Rygel appeared at her side and, as though reading her mind, he said: “Chiana got here first, did she?” His ear-brows rose high at her silence. “Ah, yes, I’m right aren’t I? You wanted that position. But you would have done him no good, Aeryn, mark my words. You’re a Sebacean – useless in matters of love. It’s a known fact that in matters of the love arts, Sebaceans are practically retarded.”

Aeryn ignored Rygel, and simply watched John as he broke down completely. In the two cycles John had been on Moya, Aeryn had not seen him knowingly shed a single tear, but now it seemed that everything was coming out all at once. He had survived so much but now the grief itself might kill him.

Aeryn knew this was better. Better Chiana be there to soften the blow. Better she keep her mouth shut about everything. Aeryn knew her own inadequacies all too well; she would have failed him. She would have uttered some obtuse phrase like: “Things will look better tomorrow.” Or “At least you’re still here.” Idiocies that didn’t begin to address a sorrow of this magnitude. How do you come back from being the destroyer of your own planet? How do you mourn an entire world? What remorse is enough?

Aeryn packed her meagre belongings and said goodbye to D’Argo and Pilot. John and Chiana she let alone to resolve this disaster in peace.

Once aboard Talyn, she said to Crais. “Let’s go.”

Crais relayed the command to Talyn and they disappeared in a starburst of white light.

FS

When he had cried himself out and been walked back to his quarters, John looked at the empty chamber in the night and saw the cell from his early days. This was not a home, and there was no other home to go to now. Only Moya and these people who had taken him in - they were no longer enough.

John made his way silently to Moya’s docking bay. No one stopped him, had they even known of his decision. If they had, Aeryn might have tried to stop him; her Peacekeeper training would have made her. She would have shouted her disapproval at him as far as Andromeda, telling him how stupid he was for doing it.

Chiana would have tried reason maybe or offered to sleep with him. He might even have accepted.

D’Argo would not have stopped him. To a Luxon warrior, suicide was not a coward’s way out. If the battle required it, it was an honourable end.

Rygel would have told him he was being foolish then probably gotten drunk with him and sent him off with a Hynerian salute.

John donned his spare spacesuit, climbed in his module and left the confines of Moya’s dark Bay, flying off in a directionless heading. Anywhere. Nowhere. Everywhere. It did not matter. He had enough oxygen for a just over a day. There were no planets anywhere nearby.

His eyes saw beautiful stars and imagined a planet that was once his home and they wept. In his grief his heart saw his family and that they were out there somewhere in space alive and well, and it rejoiced.

With satisfaction John saw that his O2 gauge was hovering on the red. It was time to join them.

FS

A shape blocked out the stars. Two enormous metallic arms locked onto and retracted with the module into a dark cargo bay. Somewhere from within the vastness of space a voice spoke to him: “I am sorry, John, but I cannot allow you to do that.”

John remembered the maniac’s voice well, but did not mind it out here at death’s door. The voice and its owner was just another devil in a sky of devils, and one not that impressive. John mumbled in a half conscious state. “Scorpius?”

“Yes, John, it’s me. Time to come home.”

FSFSFSFSFSFSFSFS  
END Book 1.


End file.
